


victory runes

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Attempts at Comfort Were Made, Kissing, M/M, Minor Violence, Post-Thor: Ragnarok, Thor Has Issues, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-01 00:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12693375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: A snake couldn’t change its colors, try as he might, trust his own intentions as he wanted to. At this moment, legs braced on either side of Thor’s lap, he couldn’t imagine doing anything to undermine Thor’s rule, his wants, his needs.But tomorrow was another day and Loki’s whims were mercurial.





	victory runes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Artemis1000](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000)/[cynical-harlequin](http://cynical-harlequin.tumblr.com/), who wanted to see these two get into a vicious fight

The sound of Thor’s boots pounding against the floor resounded throughout the room, filling the place with a cacophony of rhythmic noise. Loki wouldn’t have gone so far as to say it rang of thunder, but, well. It did a bit. Enough to give Loki a headache and get Banner, who was three floors down and otherwise occupied with throwing him around their makeshift gym and training room—Thor had insisted upon it, having found himself with a great deal of excess energy, too, and no hurry to reach Earth—just a little bit greener and angrier than Loki was entirely comfortable with. No one else, as far as Loki knew, had complaints or would complain even if they did.

At moments like this, Loki used to steer clear of Thor. Unless he wanted something and thought his best chance of getting it was riling Thor further. Now, he felt obligated to do something about it. To help or to harm, he wasn’t sure, but he knew he couldn’t just do nothing. Not anymore. Not now that father was finally dead and Thor sometimes looked at him with such sheer amazement that Loki stilled, overcome by the realization that Thor had never, ever looked at him—or anyone except perhaps Jane, which Loki also didn’t allow himself to think too much about for fear of misconstruing what he was seeing—in such a way before, not even before he’d learned who Loki truly was.

It left him wordless, breathless. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

It was the exact polar opposite of how Thor looked at him now. Scathing, bitter, and so very angry, it stopped Loki in his tracks. Hands lifting, he inclined his head and pasted on a friendly, benevolent smile. “Hello, Thor,” he said. “You’re looking very well today.”

That, at least, got Thor to stop stomping around, but it did nothing to improve the appearance of his face. Furrows marred his forehead and gave him the appearance of someone Loki didn’t like thinking about too much. _You remind me of father_ would do nothing to improve Thor’s mood and it was only true in the most superficial of senses. He did look good. That much was accurate. Just. Angry. Changeably so. Just like father.

And Loki had no idea what might have set him off; he didn’t anger as quickly anymore and, when he did, the circumstances tended to deserve it. But Loki’s information, good and thorough though it usually was, could not enlighten him in this.

He would have to work harder in the future, he supposed. The longer they were on this ship, the harder it had become to know what Thor was thinking. Few were close to him and fewer still shared his confidences. It made gathering intelligence difficult. And because Thor still didn’t fully trust Loki, Loki couldn’t exactly get it for himself. Valkyrie was an option, assuming she ever attempted to talk to Thor about anything except their long and varied war stories, but she wouldn’t be a viable source unless he ingratiated himself to her and that… project… was still ongoing. If only currying her faith was as easy as currying her momentary favor. Procuring a bottle of interesting liquor earned you her goodwill for a time, but it didn’t get you much else. And she would likely not betray her king’s confidences to anyone even if she had them.

“Your flattery is pointless,” Thor answered, turning away. And though Loki wanted to believe otherwise, he couldn’t help but feel like Thor was pouting. About what he’d said. Which was ridiculous, after all. He’d only paid Thor a compliment. “Leave me.”

“I should like to,” Loki said. _Lies lies lies_. “But the incessant noise has worked Banner up. Valkyrie is worried about him.” That was… a stretch. Truly, she was worried more about the walls of the ship than she was about him. And even then she’d merely shrugged and said that Big Green was having a little too much fun wrecking Thor’s playroom and Loki might want to get on that before he did some real damage.

He hadn’t bothered suggesting Valkyrie take it to Thor herself, but now he wished he had.

Sighing, Thor brushed his hand across his eye, lingered for a minute on the edge of the still strange looking eye patch, and dragged it across his mouth. He seemed to deflate a little, collapse into himself. The breadth of his vexation no longer filled the room and instead collapsed inward, leaving Thor looking quite a bit more fragile than Loki wanted to see. It matched so clearly to Loki’s imaginings, just what he’d wanted when all he cared for was bringing Thor low. “My apologies,” he said, stiff. Neither Thor nor he were very good at saying they were sorry, especially when they’d been caught doing something they knew they shouldn’t have been. “He hasn’t…”

Thor’s hand twirled in the air, a wholly inaccurate recreation of the destruction Banner could wreak should he so desire to.

“No,” Loki said. “Everything is fine. He’s just sensitive.” _As are you apparently_. “I don’t believe there’s any true danger, but…”

Thor sighed again, more vehement this time. They were both out of their depths here; Loki wasn’t one for giving comfort and Thor definitely wasn’t one for receiving it. “But what?” Thor asked, his tone dancing on a knife’s edge. One tip one way or the other and it would fall. Loki could guide it if he tried, but that would only help so far.

If he wanted to get to the bottom of it…

“But you do seem very angry for no reason,” Loki said, his words a stick intent on poking Thor in the most obnoxious places. “I find myself curious as to why that might be.” Mentally, he steeled himself for whatever onslaught Thor intended to send his way. The chances of being electrocuted were slim, he reasoned. And Thor wouldn’t risk opening up the ship to the vacuum of space so getting thrown about was probably out. Not that he truly believed that Thor would do that to him. They weren’t raucous children anymore, screaming about the palace as they chased one another down and fought each other to the bloody death—or, well, until one or the other of them, though somehow it was always Loki, cried mercy.

Blue flared in Thor’s remaining eye, a terrifying reminder of the many and varied new ways Thor had learned to fight since their dealings with Hela. He wasn’t hampered by his need for the hammer any longer and in many ways it showed.

Sometimes it showed a little too much.

And then it was gone and Thor was merely Thor again, his rage draining itself of the worst of its power.

“Do you do that on purpose or does it just come naturally to you?” Thor asked. “Saying the wrong things at the wrong time?”

Loki relaxed a little. “It’s a skill. Sometimes saying the wrong thing at the wrong time is just as important as saying the right thing at the right time.” They probably wouldn’t be here today if Loki hadn’t sat next to Thor one day a long time ago and told him that he was right, that the Frost Giants would strike at the very heart of Asgard, that Thor needed to protect them all, that defying father…

That defying father was the only way to do it, like Thor wasn’t perfectly happy to do just that if given the encouragement.

“Important,” Thor spit back at him. “Wars are fought and lost over words.”

It seemed Thor had learned a thing or two in the years of betrayals that spread out before them. Loki was ever Loki and Thor was ever Thor and somehow—now—they’d found their way back to one another. And in the meantime, Thor had grown observant, intelligent, cunning. His need for Loki was less than Loki’s need for him in return. It put Loki in an uncomfortable position and Loki did not like being put in uncomfortable positions. Brushing his hands together, he thinned his lips and willed himself to not say the words that so wanted to cross them.

“Wars are fought and lost with hammers, brother,” Loki said. Damn. _Damn_. Keeping his face as blank as he could, he waited for the blow to fall. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t even true, really. Thor had won a great deal more for the people of Asgard and elsewhere with that hammer. He knew better than to say this and he’d done it anyway.

Sometimes he just couldn’t help himself. A snake couldn’t stop itself from striking, that was the way the stories went. Those stories were factually incorrect, of course. A snake only struck when it was threatened. It was merely Loki who struck indiscriminately.

But instead of yelling or throwing a gleefully feral punch, Thor just looked up at the ceiling, his hands on his hips as he drew in a deep breath. He mumbled a curse, quiet, almost inaudible even to Loki. There was nothing to see up there, no murals that hid and revealed the truth in turns, no gold, no celebrations of Asgardian culture. If he saw anything of comfort to him there, Loki couldn’t find anything of the same in it.

Thor was a hero locked in a cage, a king without a land. He was a warrior without a fight and a builder with nothing to build.

No wonder he was angry. Frustration wrapped its long, barbed arms around Loki’s chest and squeezed. It washed over him, tsunami-quick and nearly as powerful. It wasn’t decent that Thor should have done everything right and still lost Asgard. It wasn’t fair that he had to be the one to come up with the most terrible of ideas: destroy Asgard to save Asgard. That was an idea worthy of Loki. If only Thor could place the blame with him for it. Loki would gladly take it; he’d taken on worse over the many, many years they had lived. It wouldn’t even bother him. This time, he would not lash out over the unfairness of it all.

To free Thor from this particular trouble, he would do that and much more.

An ironic and difficult position to be in if he let himself consider how much trouble he’d caused Thor in the past, even the very recent past. Even yesterday when he suggested that Thor go out and find some Chitauri to fight or something if he was going to huff about looking so forlorn. That managed to cause quite a bit of trouble when Thor, looking half-crazed and more than a little convinced already, almost did just that despite everyone—and Loki meant everyone, even Valkyrie who was always up for a fight—telling him that it was a bad idea.

They weren’t ready to take on the Chitauri, not with Thanos behind them running the show. Even if they had been decimated, worse had been done to Asgard’s warriors. Loki’d only said it to say something, maybe to remind Thor that he was being ridiculous and maybe a bit like a child and possibly self-destructive to top it all off. He hadn’t wanted to inspire the man.

Thor’s best idea might have been to go to Earth, but the trip there was slow, mired by politics and sideways trips down rabbit holes in which the remaining Asgardians wanted to do this or go there or believed that Thor’s job was to convince them all that he knew what he was doing.

Debatable in Loki’s view; he was pretty sure none of them really knew what they were doing. And Loki was the one who had experience actually ruling Asgard. Or, well. Experience might have been a stretch for what it was he’d done in exchange for the crown. Unless someone wanted to provide him with a tray of grapes and stand around watching plays, he was as much unsure of how to proceed as Thor was.

Not that he didn’t have ideas, of course, but his ideas and Thor’s would come into conflict at some point if Loki tried to voice them.

He’d certainly avoid visiting Earth. And he’d probably launch Banner at the nearest uninhabited planet and never, ever return or tell anyone where he’d left the giant green monster. He’d possibly try to worm his way into the favor of some other planet’s leadership and take it over from the inside. All of them were ideas that Thor wouldn’t have been interested in pursuing in the very best of circumstances. Loki knew enough to know that and kept his mouth shut on that score. It wasn’t his job to tell Thor what to do, much as he might want to.

Maybe one day, but not now, and definitely not today.

“Is there anything I can do?” Loki asked. Folding his hands behind his back, he waited for Thor to respond and hoped that, if he did want something, he would tell Loki and that, if he did do that much, it was something that Loki could actually do for him.

Thor merely stared at him, eye wide, his mouth partly open. After a moment, it snapped shut and he shook his head. “No.” Gruff, he shook his head, accentuating the strange cut of his hair that had yet to begin growing out. It gave him a harder edge in a way and Loki didn’t like it, not in the slightest, not least of all because it was the result of someone who wasn’t Loki touching it—and, as a result, Thor.

No one had that right.

“Will you at least tell me what’s wrong then?” And Loki knew he was pleading now, that he was grasping at straws that he couldn’t simply take instead. “I have to at least pretend I’ve tried to help you.”

“I’d rather not,” Thor offered, more than Loki expected, but far less than he wanted.

“Why ever not? What could possibly have happened that’s got you so—so…” Scoffing, Loki crossed his arms and fought the urge to tread his way up to Thor and push him around. Physical confrontation had never been his method of choice, but desperate times and desperate measures. Striding forward, he grabbed hold of Thor, dug his fingers into the hard planes of muscles along his forearm and squeezed as hard as he could, dragging Thor back around. So much for fighting his urges. “Talk to me, damn you.”

“Don’t touch me.” Thor ripped his arm free and glared, fierce. “And don’t ever presume to tell me what to do.”

“You sound like father,” he said, hand warm with the friction of the sudden loss. _You sound the same as you did the day he banished you_. “You sound like a child. I’m your—”

Before Loki could finish, Thor grabbed hold of him, his fingers tightening in Loki’s hair as he pulled him forward into a bruising, biting kiss. His teeth clashed with Loki’s, caught on his lower lip. The taste of iron flooded Loki’s mouth. As he grabbed hold of Thor’s clothing, he bit back, and broached Thor’s mouth with his tongue. If he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t have to talk. And if this was what he wanted, it was about damned time. Groaning, Loki shoved him back, back toward that ridiculous throne of Thor’s, back until Thor was seated, back until Loki could sit astride him. “You bastard,” he said, between two brushes of their mouths. “Selfish, boorish pr—”

“Shut up. For once in your life, shut up.” Thor’s voice cracked, thunder clear, snapping with the ferocity of a lightning flash across the sky. He surged up against Loki again, pulling him down. “Do you ever—?”

“I don’t,” Loki replied, annoyed. “You know this.”

“What if I said I _needed_ you to shut up?” He gave the word ‘need’ a mocking edge that was worthy of Loki’s wicked tongue.

“I wouldn’t believe you.” He nuzzled at the skin behind Thor’s ear and didn’t allow himself to wonder just how they ended up at this point. Thor’s skin smelled of ozone, metallic and clean and a little bit dangerous.

Thor’s fingers crept up Loki’s back, wound themselves in his hair and tugged. His teeth scraped over Loki’s neck as heat slammed into him, striking as hard and as fast as any of the times Thor had struck him in the midst of battle, motivated by the feeling of betrayal that Loki had brought down on all of them. This was both so much better and so much worse, brittle and painful and so, so good despite both of those things. Loki could break it if he wanted to; in the past, he probably would have done so just because he could, just because it would put him one over on Thor.

Once, hurting Thor had been the only thing that mattered.

Now, protecting him seemed far more important.

Even, maybe especially, from Loki himself.

A snake couldn’t change its colors, try as he might, trust his own intentions as he wanted to. At this moment, legs braced on either side of Thor’s lap, he couldn’t imagine doing anything to undermine Thor’s rule, his wants, his needs.

But tomorrow was another day and Loki’s whims were mercurial.

He couldn’t risk it. “We should talk about this,” he said, gentler than he knew how to be most of the time. What he meant, that he couldn’t quite say, was, _we shouldn’t do this_. Not now, not like this. Not with things so precarious still between them.

There was a time when he would have wanted nothing more; all he’d ever wanted was Thor’s attention on him, Thor’s entire focus directed at him. And now that he had it… “Thor,” he said. This wasn’t how he wanted it, not with Thor so clearly upset about something.

Instead of arguing, Thor scoffed and drew back, pressing at Loki’s shoulder, not quite shoving Loki away, but close enough to it that unless Loki wanted to fall, he had to scramble up and back. Without Thor’s heat to press against, Loki felt chilled, icy. Jotunheim might have been warmer to him, more welcoming. He regretted his decision immediately, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it back. It was for the best.

For once, he could be unselfish, even if Thor didn’t see it that way.

The fierce loathing on Thor’s face told Loki everything he needed to know. Sneering, unhappy, Thor dusted his hands across his thighs and climbed to his feet. “Leave me, brother,” he said again, his voice cold. “I will not ask again.”

Loki swallowed. Every option he had flickered through his mind and none of them gave him what he wanted.

Bowing his head, he closed his eyes. Thor would not forgive him if he walked away. And yet he couldn’t see any version of this that works if he doesn’t. Thor had opened up something here that Loki hadn’t ever known he could have. That Thor could so easily shut him back out again only made him want to loathe Thor in return, not so different from the past, but new in its intensity. He wished, sometimes, that he’d never helped Thor at all, that he’d let Thor stumble and fall among the ruinous garbage heaps of Sakaar. Banner could have killed him and Loki, Loki might have been just fine with it.

He would have survived.

He wasn’t sure he could survive this.

 _Damn you_ , he thought. Took one step back. _I hate you_. He took another step back.

A third step. A fourth, a fifth, a sixth.

He reached the door and still he could not look away; he could not open the door and leave even though pain lanced through him the longer he remained.

 _I love you_.


End file.
